


One Minute More

by mekana47



Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Choking, Community: theoldguardkinkmeme, M/M, Minor Character Death, Non-Consensual Touching, Protective Nicky | Nicolò di Genova, Sexual Assault
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-23
Updated: 2020-09-23
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:07:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26613457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mekana47/pseuds/mekana47
Summary: “That was stupid,” Keane says, brushing Nicky’s cheek in a mimicry of a caress. “But if you’re not going to shut up, I guess I’ll just have to keep your mouth busy."-or-Keane decides he'd rather ride in the armored van with Joe and Nicky than ride with Copley.
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova, Keane/Nicky | Nicolo di Genova
Comments: 40
Kudos: 417





	One Minute More

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta'd, so feel free to point out my typos. Some lines are lifted or altered from various parts of the film.
> 
> Inspired by the Old Guard Kink Meme prompt [HERE](https://theoldguardkinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/1106.html?thread=99410#cmt99410).
> 
> If you want more information about the 'sexual assault' and 'non-consensual touching' tags before proceeding, please check the end note.

Nicky’s still struggling to keep up with this new situation when Joe starts telling the soldiers—and the body armor covering all but their faces leaves no doubt they are soldiers—how much Nicky means to him. 

Joe’s voice is grounding, his cadence a soothing balm. The love in his words is a comfort that sinks into his bones with such familiarity that it almost doesn’t matter that they’ve apparently been skillfully abducted in an armored van. 

When Joe meets his eyes, his words are no more honest because he’s been saying them directly to Nicky anyway, but the stress and upheaval of the past few days eases a little further.

“You’re an incurable romantic,” Nicky murmurs, making his affection undeniable.

He can’t help smiling into the kiss and tastes Joe’s smile in return. He leans into Joe’s touch on his cheek even as he expects to be pulled away at any moment.

The arm locking around Nicky’s throat is less expected.

The arm pulls hard enough to force him to follow the movement or risk choking, and Joe’s already watching like he’s seen Nicky hurt too much lately. The arm pulls up, and Nicky does choke, his boots taking an extra second to find enough traction on the metal floor to ease the pressure. He forces himself to stay calm, but his bound arms automatically rise to the arm against his windpipe. He can’t do more than hold on as he’s pulled onto a lap like he’s a small child.

Flush against a soldier’s chest, Nicky stays tense, ready to move at the first opportunity. The arm stays firm. 

Normally, this is the point where they’d take out all the soldiers, searching for keys, knives, or at least a weapon to have ready whenever the van stops. A glance at a soldier’s tac vest shows they still have their rifle’s magazines in their pockets, but there’s no sign of anything else. 

Turning back to Joe, he reads the not-quite panic too plain on his face. He’s not going to make the first move with Nicky trapped like this.

Suffocation, they both know, is a terrible way to die.

“Joe?” Nicky says on a breath.

“He seems to be in charge. They called him Keane.” Joe answers the unspoken request for more information in Italian. He shrugs off the men who pulled him out of their kiss, but the hands return immediately. “They waited an extra minute for him.”

Nicky tries to turn his head, but the chokehold tightens. “Five?”

“Si.”

“Wait for the—” Nicky grunts as the arm jerks hard against his windpipe, his air restricted.

“Shut up,” Keane growls, and Nicky clocks three things: this is the first time Nicky’s heard him speak, he isn’t wearing the protective gear the others are, and Nicky’s skin crawls when his chest vibrates against Nicky’s back.

Nicky falls silent to see if the arm will loosen again. It relaxes only enough to let him breathe easier, but Keane’s even tension never wavers even with the sharp turns, rough bounces, or the way Nicky shifts in his lap every time his boots slip again.

Nicky loses himself to tactics. The zip tie on his wrists is thick enough to be unbreakable and tight enough that no amount of self-inflicted damage will make his hands small enough to slip through. He’s fought bound and unarmed before but not against soldiers armored so thoroughly.

He startles out of possible scenarios when something moves against his ass. Another bump in the road makes Nicky slide again, and there’s an undeniable twitch beneath him. He must make a face, because Joe cocks his head.

“What is it?”

When no one reprimands Joe for the Italian words, Nicky says, “He’s enjoying this.”

Joe’s face twists through something complicated. “We’ll take him out soon enough.”

Nicky snorts, offering the barest hint of a smile.

Keane jerks his neck again. “I told you both to shut up.”

“What are you going to do?” Nicky asks in English, and one of the soldiers behind Joe rolls his eyes. Joe must’ve already pointed out that threatening to kill them is no threat at all.

“There are plenty of things I can do.” Keane’s hot breath curls behind Nicky’s ear.

Nicky refuses to twitch away and forces himself to relax instead, waiting for the opening.

“This, for instance.” Keane plants his feet on the floor and raises his hips to grind his semi-hard erection more firmly against Nicky’s ass.

Joe rocks forward, but the two men slam him back against the bench. One laughs.

“Ah, ah, ah,” Keane taunts. 

He fists Nicky’s hair and jerks his head back, exposing his throat in an obvious ploy for power. Nicky lets him. Undeterred, Keane trails his hand down Nicky’s cheek, across his jaw and Adam’s apple to the vulnerable skin at the base of his throat. 

It’s tempting to bite him, to headbutt him, to provoke a reaction and skip the gloating stage of their capture, but Nicky’s too constrained, and he’s not confident enough in his half-formed plan to signal Joe.

A failed escape will be worse than no escape with these men.

The van rocks again, and Nicky closes his eyes for a long moment as if that could make it easier to handle the grind that’s definitely assisted this time.

“He’s thrilling, you said,” Keane muses. He traces Nicky’s clavicles and slips beneath his collar to tease at the new skin under a hole in his shirt. 

The buried memory of the bullet tearing through his shoulder at the safehouse slams into Nicky, and he lifts his head, trying to shift out of the touch. He gasps when the arm tightens around his throat again. 

Keane hums. “I have to admit the squirming is enjoyable.”

Someone laughs.

“It’s okay,” Joe says instantly back in Italian. “Nicolò, it’s nothing.”

Nicky’s lip twitches in amusement. 

Joe replays his words and fights his own smile. “I love you.” 

A soldier behind Joe kicks him hard enough he crashes against the floor.

“We can keep hurting you as long as you’d like,” Keane says as Joe struggles to pull himself back to sitting. “Or maybe if you” –he tugs on Nicky’s neck for emphasis— “don’t cooperate, we’ll see how much it takes to keep him dead. Snap his neck, and let him revive just long enough to kill him again and again and again. Would you like that?”

He pauses, seemingly waiting for an answer, so Nicky meets Joe’s eyes and switches to Arabic to say, “Men who lust for power make mistakes.”

He takes the sudden lack of air and the rabbit punch to his ribs as acceptable costs for getting his message to Joe. He can endure anything until the time is right to act.

Spots swim across his vision before Keane’s grip loosens just enough for Nicky to wheeze in air. He coughs hard, retching twice, and he’s grateful his ribs are already mostly healed. He blinks back the automatic tears and tries not to squirm as he manages to find an equilibrium.

“That was stupid,” Keane says, brushing Nicky’s cheek in a mimicry of a caress. “But if you’re not going to shut up, I guess I’ll just have to keep your mouth busy. You bite me, I’ll suffocate you and then break your teeth, is that understood?”

Nicky stays silent, and the kick-happy soldier slams his boot into Joe’s ribs. Joe’s grunt is almost lost under the sound of bone breaking. The man makes a show of pulling back his foot for a second kick, and Nicky gives. It’s not a hard decision. “Yes,” he says in English. “I understand.”

Keane’s hand cups over Nicky’s nose and mouth in warning of what he could do if Nicky pissed him off again, but he moves on quickly, fingers playing with Nicky’s lips.

Nicky lets go of the arm at his neck, letting his hands fall into his own lap, casual, unthreatening. He’s bound and chained and held close. There’s nothing to see here.

Two fingers jam into his mouth.

Nicky doesn’t quite choke, but it’s a near thing as the dirty salty taste spreads across his tongue. He stays lax, letting the fingers explore his cheeks and scrape roughly against his tongue. It’s perfunctory, no intimacy, no familiarity, and that helps. He holds Joe’s gaze even as the fingers start to thrust in and out in a pale mimicry of a familiar act.

“That’s better,” Keane says, and that same soldier laughs again. “I knew the two of you could be quiet. You just needed the right incentive, didn’t you?”

Nicky ignores him. It’s not as though he can answer, and it’s easier to focus on Joe. Robbed of his ability to lighten the mood, he chooses to let Joe read his reactions. This childish play at being powerful is irritating but nothing more.

A harder thrust hits Nicky’s throat, and he gags. 

Keane snorts. “Oh, come on. You still gag? Don’t tell me my fingers are too much for you. You seem like you like it rough.”

Joe shifts, but no one tries to grab him again.

“You must be able to do better than this, to inspire such strong words,” Keane says. “Go on. Suck my fingers.”

Something uncomfortable twists in Nicky’s chest and makes him hesitate, but he will never feel ashamed for what someone else does to him.

Keane must give some signal, because the kick-happy soldier catches Joe in the ribs again.

Joe slams into the floor with a grunt, face half-hidden between his bound arms as he pants through what has to be another cracked rib. The two soldiers behind Joe drag him back upright anyway.

Nicky starts to suck.

Keane lets out a loud, pleased groan and overtly grinds his hips against Nicky again. “Oh, there we go. You do have a nice mouth when you use it properly. You just need a little guidance, a firmer hand, don’t you? Go on, get them wet.”

Nicky steadfastly refuses to think about the implications of that order and focuses on keeping the pressure steady. There’s little benefit to making Keane angry, and it’s a small price to keep Joe from suffering.

Keane kicks out toward Joe, clearly trying to get his attention, as if Joe would be looking anywhere else. “Hey, is this what he feels like on your cock? Just soft and warm and wet. He sucks you this good when you shove it in? He lets you fuck his face like this? Christ, no wonder you keep him around.”

He scrapes his fingers along the inside of Nicky’s cheek making it bulge obscenely, and he laughs. His fingers pull free with a vulgar pop. He drags a line of spit down Nicky’s chin before smearing it back across his lips. 

Three fingers plunge in.

Nicky grunts but minds his teeth and offers no resistance. 

“Come on,” Keane murmurs, but he pitches his voice loud enough for the others to hear. “Use your tongue. You’ve had how many years of sucking cock? I’m sure you can do better than this.”

Giving no outward reaction, Nicky curls his tongue around the fingers.

Keane lets out another lewd groan and grinds his fully hard dick against Nicky’s ass. “Christ, there you go. Are you imagining it’s a cock in your mouth? I don’t mind, if you are. A mouth is a mouth to me.”

He spreads his fingers, forcing Nicky’s mouth opened and closed, drool slipping down his chin.

“You enjoying watching?” Keane asks Joe, and Nicky tunes him out again.

He moves his tongue out of habit, but the men behind Joe have his attention. The one further from the door lounges against the wall, his eyes locked on Nicky’s mouth, a lazy grin in place as he enjoys the show. The kick-happy soldier is closer to the door and leaning forward, most of his attention on Joe. Nicky’s seen his type plenty of times before: he’d happily beat the shit out of them, but the possibility of sexually assaulting a man never would’ve occurred to him on his own.

Nicky doesn’t dare look at the two men on either side of him. The arm at his neck has loosened considerably since he started cooperating, and he won’t risk reminding Keane that they’re much more dangerous than they appear.

When Joe’s foot bumps his, Nicky catches the way Joe’s forehead has furrowed with concern. Nicky doesn’t know how to dissuade that. He meets Joe’s eyes before flicking his gaze to the left to the man he’ll be heading for first. Joe’s lip twitches and his shoulders relax like— oh. 

He was worried Nicky had dissociated. 

Joe shoots his gaze to his own left and back to Nicky. They’re in agreement. 

As Joe shifts his legs, the chain rattles, but no one tells him to stop moving. He plants one foot on the floor, a lever that will launch him toward his target. He sets three fingers in Nicky’s view, mostly hidden from the soldiers, and lets his body collapse into something that could be considered unthreatening to those who don’t see him the way Nicky does.

Keane’s fingers jab the back of Nicky’s throat again, and he gags, fighting the reflex to vomit. That’d certainly be one tactic, but they’ve already settled on a different one, one with better odds of success.

Keane rocks his hips with no urgency, making Nicky slide against his dick.

“Is he enjoying this?” Keane asks Joe, his fingers thrusting in and out of Nicky’s mouth again. “Is your _boyfriend_ a slut for something in his mouth?”

The taunts are growing stale, and Joe must think so too because he tucks one of his fingers against his palm and says, “No. I know the ways he looks when he’s enjoying something, and it’s not this.”

Keane jerks, clearly startled, although Nicky’s not sure why. This isn’t about sexual satisfaction for any of them. It’s a man lording his power over the two of them and using Nicky’s body to do it, because he thinks that’s where their weakness lies. 

He can’t know Nicky’s body is a shield that protects his family from harm.

“I can always try something else,” Keane says with false casualness.

Joe curls down another finger, and Nicky keeps his eyes locked on that last one. He twists his foot until his toe gets purchase on the floor and tenses just enough to keep that contact. The other soldiers have either gotten careless on the drive or assumed they’ve been cowed, because no one moves.

Keane pulls his fingers free, and Joe drops his last finger.

Nicky lunges across the van, tearing out of the loose hold around his neck. He lands an awkward blow on his first target’s throat at the edge of his protective covering. As the soldier chokes, Nicky grabs one of the magazines from his vest and flings it at his second target. It snaps against the man’s cheek and leaves him stunned. 

A third soldier catches Nicky at the waist, jerking him backwards. Nicky twists, scooping another magazine from the choking man’s vest and rams it into the third man’s temple where his helmet doesn’t cover. The crack is loud in the small space, and the soldier collapses on the bench unconscious.

The choking soldier kicks out at Nicky, clumsy in his desperation, and Nicky stomps on his leg. The man finds enough air to scream as the bones shatter. Knocking him out is a mercy Nicky doesn’t particularly want to give the man, but his feelings don’t rule his strategy. The magazine to the temple takes the soldier out of the fight. 

The second soldier has gotten to his feet, but Joe and Keane take up most of the floor, grappling and blocking the path. It’s impossible to tell who has the advantage with Keane punching Joe’s head and Joe driving knees into Keane’s stomach. 

One of them clips Nicky’s ankle, and he stumbles. The chain stretches to its limit, and he falls backwards unable to brace himself. One shoulder jars hard against the doors.

The second soldier seizes the opening, vaulting Joe and Keane and slamming his boot into Nicky’s gut. 

His head bounce against the door, and with nowhere to move, he has to absorb the full-force of the blow. It knocks the air out of him, and a fist catches him across the cheek. It seems impossible to think straight and catch his breath.

The fourth soldier appears behind the other’s shoulder, blood pouring down his chin from a nose Joe must’ve headbutted to start the fight.

Nicky shifts his grip on the magazine, refusing to admit they’ve probably lost and they’ll almost certainly be separated now.

The explosive boom is deafening but almost comforting in its familiarity.

The van rocks in the shockwave, and the two soldiers stagger. Nicky rides the motion and slams his knee into the front soldier’s balls, dropping him low enough for a boot to the face despite the shackles.

Nicky’s ears ring, but he calls, “I think backup’s arrived.”

Joe huffs something close to a laugh, so Nicky keep his focus on the last soldier standing. The man seems to realize he’s outmatched, and his anxiety makes it easy for Nicky to feint a jab with the magazine, catch the man’s shoulder, and whirl him into a decent-enough chokehold. The awkward position sends sharp pain down Nicky’s wrists every time the man tries to kick out, but Nicky holds firm and watches Joe and Keane struggling on the floor.

Joe’s managed to get half on top of Keane, but Keane gets a good crack at Joe’s temple, a near killing blow.

Nicky stays silent, refusing to be a distraction.

The van door opens behind him, and he nearly tumbles out as his support suddenly disappears. He spins, his human shield getting dragged along, but Nile greets him, her handgun out and ready.

“I think he’s out,” she says, nodding at Nicky’s shield.

Nicky lets go. The body crumples on the edge of the van before tipping over. The helmet sounds like plastic when it hits the road.

“Andy? Booker?” Nicky asks.

“They’re taking care of the others. They figured you two probably had this under control… should we help him?”

Nicky glances over his shoulder at Joe and Keane still beating on each other however they can. Joe looks pinned, but Nicky says, “No, Joe’s got this.”

“Okay,” Nile says, dubious and dragging out the word. 

One of the soldiers groans back to conscious. Nicky grabs another magazine from the nearest body and flings it into the man’s face. The soldier sags, clearly unconscious again, but Nicky’s going to run out of projectiles at this rate.

“You have a knife?” he asks Nile, lifting his bound hands.

Keane spits out a curse, and one of them thuds into the benches. Nicky waits for Nile’s answer, not bothering to check the fight. 

Nile’s forehead pinches. “He’s going to kill Joe.”

“That’s a risk Joe wants to take.” He lifts his wrists again.

She shakes her head without looking at him. “Andy has a sword?”

“It’ll keep,” Nicky says and turns to watch the fight. 

Blood runs down Keane’s face. The arm he’d been using to support himself while he punched Joe now sits at an awkward angle, but he hasn’t given up, even dazed and outnumbered. 

It’s not a good sign of what was to come for them.

Joe shifts his feet, leaving his face exposed to another blow that makes Nicky wince. Then Joe twists, using his hips to throw Keane to the side hard enough to stun him, and it must be the opening he was waiting for. Instantly, Joe tucks his knees to his chin, snaps his feet over Keane’s head, and brings his ankles together at the back of his neck. The chain between Joe’s shackles falls across Keane’s neck, and Joe gathers the slack in one fist, pulling hard.

“You don’t have to watch this,” Nicky tells Nile as Keane scrambles for the chain, for Joe’s wrists, for anything that could help him. They probably shouldn’t traumatize their potential teammate, potential sister, any more than she’s already been on her first night with them.

“I have a gun,” Nile says.

Nicky says, “Don’t.” 

Keane slams a fist into Joe’s shin, but he doesn’t have the leverage to make it hurt, and Joe is steadfast. Panic is bright in Keane’s eyes as his legs kick out twice more before his eyes droop shut and he falls still.

Joe pants above the body for a moment before releasing his hold. He takes in the other bodies and looks up at Nicky. “You had to break his leg?”

Nicky smiles, unapologetic. He’d done it for the same reason he’d let Joe take on Keane alone, but Joe knows that. 

Joe turns to Nile. “Andy? Booker?”

“Dealing with the others. Is he dead?”

“Probably,” Joe mutters darkly, patting down Keane’s body as best he can. He makes a triumphant sound and drags a key out of the side pants pocket. He has to contort into an awkward shape, but he manages to slot it into the manacles on his ankles and free his legs. He tosses the key to Nicky and searches Keane’s other pockets.

Nicky drops the key to Nile and lets her remove his chain more easily.

“Nothing else,” Joe says, pushing up to his feet and crossing to Nicky.

Nicky tilts his head and leans in for a quick kiss, a reassurance that he’s okay and Keane didn’t take this from them. He takes the extra second to scrape his teeth against Joe’s bottom lip, because he can and because Joe likes it. They’re already pulling apart when the shout breaks through the night.

“Give me the gun,” Nicky says.

Nile visibly hesitates, but she passes it over without complaint. 

Nicky waits until Joe hops out of the van to fire four quick headshots just to be safe. Joe and Nile heft the last soldier back into the van, and Nicky kills him just as quickly. 

As he reaches for a handle on the door to help him hop down, he notices there isn’t one. The door doesn’t open from the inside. Even if he and Joe had won, without the team, they would’ve been trapped.

He jumps from the van and passes the gun back to Nile, even though his chest almost aches at the thought of being bound and unarmed again. 

“Let’s get the doors,” Nicky says.

He and Joe each shove one closed. Nile has better maneuverability to deal with the latches, which she does without complaint but without meeting their eyes either. They _have_ traumatized her, but it’ll have to wait. 

“Let’s go,” Nile says.

She moves in front of them and disappears around the van. Nicky tips his head at Joe, and together they jog after her.

The two bodies on the ground must have been the drivers. A small fire burns just ahead of the van, the remnants of what must have been Booker’s explosive distraction.

Nicky nearly stumbles when he sees the airplane. What he’d thought was a road is actually part of a tarmac. He must make a noise, because Joe glances over.

"That minute, waiting for Keane," Nicky explains without break his stride. 

Joe grimaces. He sees it too, how close they were to getting shoved on that plane and whisked away with no trail for the team to follow.

Andy paces back and forth near the bottom of the stairs for the plane, shouting and occasionally pointing her sword at Copley. He’s settled on his knees, hands behind his neck. Booker follows her circuit, blocking her view of Copley and holding his arms out like he’s trying to be a peacemaker for some reason.

“What’s going on?” Nicky asks as they approach.

Andy scans him with sharp eyes, then does the same to Joe. “Glad you’re both still with me.”

“Never a doubt,” Joe says in that way only he can get away with when there’s blood splattered across his face.

Nicky takes in the bodies on the ground, two more men in full body armor and four men in plainclothes. All of them were armed. The number of men working to take out the two of them was damning, but for four of them, now maybe five? Their enemies never had a chance.

He turns to study Copley. “We are usually a better judge of character.”

“Apparently not.” Andy’s voice is carefully neutral.

Booker winces. Nicky’s gaze snaps to him, but Joe asks, “What did you do?”

“Stop,” Andy says. “This is not the time for it.”

“We don’t have time for any of this. Someone must’ve heard that explosion,” Nile says. “Andy, cut them free.”

Andy startles and looks down at their restraints. If she’s only noticing their restraints now, something terrible is going on, but Nile’s right. They’ll have time to figure out the past later.

“What’s the situation with the pilot?” Andy asks Copley.

He blinks a couple of times, like he’d stopped paying attention to the conversation. Perhaps he assumes his fate is already sealed. Despite whatever money or ideal he’s fighting for, he must’ve known they would survive the killing floor and come for him. If he’s resigned himself to death, he may not see the need to cooperate.

“He’s supposed to already be in the cockpit,” Copley says finally. “Ready to go as soon as the door is latched.”

Andy nods, swinging her sword idly again. “How many people at this company know about us?”

Copley maintains eye contact. “I couldn’t say. At least a few more.”

“Then we stop this here and now, or he never stops coming after us.”

“Boss—" Booker tries, but she silences him with a look and turns her back on him.

“Are they all dead?” Andy asks, jerking her chin toward the armored van.

“Yes,” Joe answers. His anger is out for anyone to see, but Nicky watches Copley take an unsteady breath at the news. “We left a pair of shackles in there, if they’ll help.”

“Might not be necessary,” Nicky murmurs.

“They could sell the ruse, if it comes to that,” Joe argues, and Nicky has to concede the point even if he’d rather none of them go near the van again.

Nile’s head whips between them, clearly not following the conversation, but they’ll have time to explain on the plane.

Andy slices through Joe’s bindings with a careless tug. “Go.”

“Yes, boss.” 

Joe takes off in a trot. Nicky’s stomach twists irrationally when Joe disappears behind the van, but Andy’s made her decision. He won’t argue.

The van door bangs against the paneling, loud now that the night has been quiet for so long. Nicky doesn’t let himself flinch, but Copley certainly does. Perhaps he isn’t so prepared to die, after all.

“One of them hurt you?” Andy asks, drawing Nicky’s attention back to her and cutting through his zip tie.

He rubs his wrists out of habit. Hurt is too simple a word for what he and Joe experienced tonight. One shoulder ticks up in a half-shrug, but it’s enough of an answer for something that wasn’t quite a question anyway.

Andy looks so old in her despair, and Nicky aches to reach for her, but it won’t help either of them.

In a blink, her game face is back in place. “Copley, get on the plane. Booker, you too. You’re staying in my sights.” 

Booker squeezes his eyes shut before nodding and walking up the stairs. Copley follows at a more sedate place, and Andy lets him.

“What are we doing?” Nile asks.

Nicky doesn't look away from Joe trotting toward them. “Wherever this plane is landing, someone’s expecting two prisoners and however many soldiers. They won’t be expecting an ambush.”

Nile makes a surprised sound, but it’s not Nicky’s job to persuade her to come or not. If she chooses to run, he isn’t going to stop her, but he doesn’t think she will. She’s young and out of her depth, but she has to know she’s better with them than potentially getting caught in the fallout on her own.

Joe stops in their cluster and holds the shackles and the key out to Nile. She hesitates, huffs to herself, and takes the items. 

He waits until she’s disappeared inside to cup Nicky’s jaw and press their foreheads together. “Alright, hayati?”

Nicky allows himself the luxury of leaning into the touch, closing his eyes, and breathing in Joe. “We will be.” He takes one more breath and pulls back, reluctant, but there’ll be time for comfort later. “Come on.”

Joe’s hand falls away, and they turn to the bodies littering the tarmac. Once they’ve taken all the weapons, they walk up the stairs together.

“Do you think there’s a TV?” Nicky asks.

Joe laughs. “Champagne?”

Nicky finds himself grinning as he steps onto the plane, ready to throw himself into battle once more.

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers about the 'sexual assault' and 'non-consensual touching' tags: Nicky is put in a chokehold and forced to sit on Keane's lap while Keane grinds against him, makes Nicky suck on his fingers, and makes graphic comments.


End file.
